Take my reservation number... please!

Back from a weekend in Toronto with the family. We stayed at the Sheraton Centre downtown, where they seem to have an odd aversion to taking their own reservation numbers.

The night before leaving, I call to confirm. Dialogue goes like this:

"I would like to confirm a reservation. I have a reservation number."

"That's ok. What's your last name?"

"Moscovitch."

"We don't have anything. Is there another name?"

"Lamb."

"No, we have no record of a reservation. Did you say you had a number?"

"Yes."

"Can I have it please?"

I give the reservation number, and am told, "Oh. Here it is."

Wouldn't it have been more productive for everyone if the dialogue had gone this way?

"I would like to confirm a reservation. I have a reservation number."

"Can I have it please? ... Oh yes, here is your reservation."

Next day we arrive at the hotel.

"I have a reservation number." (Repeat rest of dialogue as at top.)

Once they have found us in the system (which seems to take an incredible number of keystrokes) various other problems arise -- the room is not ready, and they have reserved two rooms for us instead of one.

While we wait for the room, we go out for a delicious lunch at Little Tibet restaurant. A couple of hours later, we return to check in.

"I have a reservation number." (Repeat rest of dialogue as at top.) This time, I find out that the reason they can't find us is that the room has been booked in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Lambmoscovitch. Good thing we didn't saddle the kids with that one. I ask the person at the check in to correct the name. They say they will. They tap some keys. I assume they are doing it -- right now! Next day, Mr. and Mrs. Lambmoscovitch are still, apparently, at the hotel.